


Return to Slitherbough

by Burgie



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29531811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burgie/pseuds/Burgie
Summary: Y'shtola returns to the First to visit a friend.
Relationships: Y'shtola Rhul/Runar
Kudos: 6





	Return to Slitherbough

“Shtola.” The mage stopped at the familiar croaking voice, though her tail lashed behind her angrily and her ears pinned back even before she turned to face her mentor. “A moment, if you would.”

“I do not much crave your ire should I fail to obey,” said Y’shtola, folding her arms in front of her chest. “Is this about me taking your name?”

“Not completely, no,” said Matoya, the old crone hobbling forward to sit at her table. She caught eyes with Y’shtola’s own blind ones, the mage knowing what she wanted and crossing the cave to sit opposite her mentor.

“Then what have I done this time, pray tell?” Y’shtola asked. Matoya sipped at a cup of tea that her faithful poroggo had gifted her.

“It concerns something that young Veronyka chanced to tell me,” said Matoya. Y’shtola flattened her ears, cursing the other miqo’te. She knew exactly what Matoya was about to scold her about now.

“I am allowed to have romantic feelings, you know,” said Y’shtola. “Not everyone wishes to shut out the outside world.”

“Oh, I’m not denying that you can have romantic feelings,” said Matoya. “It’s what you’ll do it for it that worries me. Need I remind you of why you spent so long recovering in the Reach whilst everyone else was visiting the Far East?”

“That wasn’t for love,” said Y’shtola.

“Oh?” Matoya asked. “I seem to recall you once harbouring feelings for Yda. Or was that the true Yda?”

“No, it was Lyse,” said Y’shtola softly. “But I gave up on that after I came back from the Lifestream.”

“Your time there made you reconsider, did it?” Matoya asked.

“No,” said Y’shtola again. “It was what happened afterwards, actually. When I found out what I did. We can’t all do things recklessly and not suffer the consequences, you know.”

“That sounds strange coming from you, Shtola,” said Matoya.

“I learned from the best how to hide my emotions,” said Y’shtola. “Regardless, I could hardly stand in the way of happiness after what I caused. Whether I meant to or not.”

“She blamed you, didn’t she?” Matoya asked.

“She was grieving, I didn’t blame her for her anger,” said Y’shtola. “Or her silence.”

“Whatever happened on the First or at the Reach must have changed that, then, considering the way that she was talking to you and not tearing you to shreds,” said Matoya.

“Indeed,” said Y’shtola. “Though, that didn’t stop her from telling you about my latest… romantic entanglement, I suppose you could call it.”

“Runar, was it?” Matoya asked. Y’shtola nodded. “The one whom you introduced yourself to as me.” Y’shtola blushed.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Y’shtola asked.

“Not as long as I draw breath,” said Matoya. “It’s a compliment, really. Now, Runar lives on the First, I take it?”

“He does,” said Y’shtola. “Raha has… devised a way of stabilising the spell to enable us all to travel freely to and from the First using aetherytes, though. Except for Thancred, of course.”

“Decent of you to charge his cartridges for him,” said Matoya.

“It’s the least I can do,” said Y’shtola, waiting for her mentor to attack her with another pointed question. It was what she did best.

“And I suppose that you’re going to be using this method of travel to visit, are you?” Matoya asked. “Is that safe, though?”

“I thought you were the leading expert on those things,” said Y’shtola.

“Well, you didn’t exactly come rushing to me to ask,” said Matoya. “Nor did you come running to greet me upon your return, might I add.” Y’shtola bristled, her tail puffing up as she lashed it.

“Sometimes, it pays to take risks,” said Y’shtola. The poroggo hopped carefully over to the table, somehow not spilling a single drop of the cup of tea that he brought Y’shtola. She picked the cup up and sipped at it, pleased to find that the recipe had not changed in the years that she’d been away. Bitter, though almost pleasantly so.

“That applies to spellwork,” said Matoya, her tongue sharp as ever. “Not a cross-universe booty call.” Y’shtola almost choked on her tea, but caught herself.

“It is not for that,” said Y’shtola, setting the teacup down. “I simply… miss his company.”

“Well, if you bring a litter home with you, I won’t be helping you to raise them,” said Matoya. “I’m too old to deal with a child, never mind a miniature you.” Though the tea was still on the hot side of warm, Y’shtola finished it off in one gulp anyway, hurrying to leave the cave.

“Well, should my body even still be capable of such, as I’m sure you were about to put it, I know exactly who I will be introducing them to first,” said Y’shtola. “My visits with you are always so enjoyable, Matoya.”

“You’ll be back,” said Matoya, watching as her protégé left. She sighed in Y’shtola’s wake. Someday, that girl was going to run out of luck. She just prayed that it would not be today.

Y’shtola had been told where to go by Veronyka first, and then by G’raha after he had confirmed that it was safe. Yet nerves still gathered in her stomach as Y’shtola climbed down into the rocky terrain of Syrcus Trench. This was far preferable to simply passing out and awakening naked in the study of her former classmate, yet she knew that it was potentially more dangerous in her condition. The air where the portal was stationed hummed with aetheric energy, raising the hairs on Y’shtola’s body as she approached it. Honing her mind to one aethertyte in particular (and vowing to hound G’raha if she did not, in fact, teleport with her clothing intact), Y’shtola took a leap of faith as she had once so long ago following the beastmen aetheryte to Titan’s lair.

Somehow, Y’shtola had expected this teleport to be something… more. More than just a simple jump, as happened with the aetherytes on Eorzea. Yet there was nothing. No burning of aether in her skin, no grand entrance, no swooning. Just the wonder of being amid rocks one moment and being in the middle of a forest the next.

Quickly, Y’shtola glanced down at her body, and, finding herself to be fully clothed, straightened up with a sigh of relief. She strode away from the aetheryte, a strange sense of nostalgic peace sinking into her as she gazed about at the familiar surroundings of Slitherbough. No longer was it Light that blazed down through the tree branches and coverings, now, it was sunlight dappling the ground and Y’shtola’s face as she tilted her head up to enjoy the sun on her skin.

“Mother Matoya!” Though the voice was not the one that Y’shtola longed to hear, her heart nevertheless soared at the sight of Slitherbough’s resident farmer, rising up from treating the fields with fertiliser from the Qitari. “What brings you back here to us? Didn’t you have an important job to do back at home?”

“I do,” said Y’shtola. “But we have many capable hands taking care of it in my absence, so I thought that I would visit and see how the Night’s Blessed are faring.”

“Well, ever since we’ve begun working together with the Qitari and the Viis of Fanow, we’ve been thriving,” said the farmer. “Though, a few of us have missed you. One more than others.”

“Is he around?” Y’shtola asked, hoping that he might be, trying to not feel shame at looking forward to seeing him.

“He was out on patrol, I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” said the farmer. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable while you wait?”

Y’shtola was only too glad to take her up on her offer, pleasant memories rushing back to her and filling her with an unfamiliar lightness as she chatted with other residents, enjoyed the atmosphere, and checked in on her old quarters. Her broom was still there, sweeping away. Y’shtola smiled to behold it. Like her mentor before her, Y’shtola now had her own little cave populated with a sentient broom, though she only had the one and her cave was not exactly on the Source. She also hadn’t created it to hide away from others.

“Matoya!” Now, that was the voice that she longed to hear, the one that had Y’shtola gleefully turning around to grin at the Ronso who radiated the purest, sweetest energy of kindness that Y’shtola had ever seen.

“There you are, Runar,” said Y’shtola, stepping closer to him. She wasn’t surprised at all when the Ronso swept her into a hug, gripping her tight enough to almost hurt.

“I thought never to see you again,” said Runar. “Are you… er, I mean, is there trouble elsewhere in Norvrandt?”

“No, nothing of the sort, as far as I’m aware,” said Y’shtola. “The warriors of darkness, or at least one of them, takes care of the notorious monsters roaming the world.”

“Yes, we see a large group of them here several times a day,” said Runar. “It is comforting, to know that they are there to help us.”

“I came here to see you, actually,” said Y’shtola. “I preserved the flower that you gave me, though I keep it at home somewhere safe.”

“You did?” Runar asked, his ears perking up in excitement. Y’shtola nodded.

“Would that I could preserve your delicious stew as well, but alas,” said Y’shtola. “Though, I could hardly say no to a bowl.”

“Ah! Then I must prepare some for you,” said Runar, setting Y’shtola back on her feet and rushing out of her cave to gather the ingredients for his stew. Y’shtola giggled, pleasure rippling through her in an unfamiliar purr as she watched him excitedly prepare the stew. At first, Y’shtola had not thought much of this Ronso, seeming little more than a young boy with a crush. But he was not that, nor was he a Seeker male, trying to establish a tribe with as many mates as possible. He was simply a warrior of the Night’s Blessed who adored her. A pity that it had only become clear to Y’shtola when he had very nearly died from poisoning. Which had, ironically enough, happened around the time that Y’shtola had done away with one of their foes with another risky Flow teleport. Running from her feelings, indeed.

Now, though, Y’shtola allowed those feelings to settle within her as she took a seat by the campfire. Delicious scents were already wafting from the bowl of stew, delicious meats and greenery from the forest and lake around them, some no doubt traded from the Viis of Fanow or perhaps the gatherers helping the Qitari.

“Here you are,” said Runar, handing Y’shtola a bowl of the delicious stew. She took it gratefully, smiling at him, and would have dared to kiss his cheek were he not holding his own larger bowl of the steaming stew. “Especially for you, Mother Matoya.”

“Thank you,” said Y’shtola, putting the lip of the bowl to her lips and sipping at the broth. It tasted even better now, though perhaps that had more to do with the fact that this was her real body now and not a soul. Runar watched her, his tail wagging behind him. Some would have found that uncomfortable, or some would have tried to make drinking stew look attractive. But Y’shtola knew that she did not need to do anything to win or keep this Ronso’s attention. He loved her with every beat of his heart, and that was the honest truth.

She had often wondered, if anyone would ever look at her like that. What it would feel like. It felt like his hugs. Warm. Safe. Secure. She wanted more. Wanted everything.

“Did you truly come here to see me?” Runar asked once Y’shtola had finished off her bowl of stew.

“Yes,” said Y’shtola. “I did. When I left, I did have business to attend to, but as I said, it is in safe hands for now. I can afford to take a little break.”

“Why… why me?” Runar asked.

“Because mayhap your attraction to me is not as one-sided as you may have believed,” said Y’shtola. “I was so busy when I was here, I had little time for romance or the like. But I have time now. And I mean to make the most of that time.”

“T… truly?” Runar asked, his ears laying back, uncertainty radiating from him. Y’shtola nodded.

“We can go for walks around Rak’tika, or you can give me cooking lessons, or we can simply cuddle or just talk,” said Y’shtola. “Anything, so long as it means spending time with you. I’m relatively certain that my linkpearl works here, or the others will send one of our warriors after me if they have need of me.”

“Then let us make the most of what time we have!” Runar declared. “Er, after I have finished my stew, of course.”

“Of course,” said Y’shtola, smiling. After everything that had happened, she hadn’t even been certain that this would work. But it was working. For once, the universe was not conspiring to tear them apart, and there was no greater foe to fight. She had time, and she intended to make the most of it. Matoya and borrowed time be damned.


End file.
